


The Head Nurse

by Lusciousinpain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, M/M, Medical Patient Dean, Nurse Castiel, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snarky Dean, Top Castiel, pissed off Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusciousinpain/pseuds/Lusciousinpain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck…” He shifts again, ass wiggling and cheeks spreading, quickly tucking the god-awful gown tightly under his bare ass, wondering for the umpteenth time why he had to remove his underwear. “It’s my head that hurts, not my balls.” He grouses, throwing an accusatory glare at the poor skeleton, about to let loose with another scathing tirade when there’s a soft rap on the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Head Nurse

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of dirty fun. Hope you enjoy! And I would love to know what you think!!

“Thanks a lot, Sammy.” Dean snaps, the poor unsuspecting skeleton propped in the corner of his doctor’s office, the sole victim to his ire.

He’s pissed and cold. Really fucking cold. And achy. Really fucking achy, but not in the sexy way.

He closes his eyes and presses a clammy palm firmly against his forehead, hoping the pressure will push back the dull relentless pounding he’s been suffering through silently, _well mostly,_ for the past couple of weeks.

“Fucking pain in my ass.” He hisses, eager to get back home and his ass back into bed, the only place where he knows he’ll get the relief he’s been chasing all morning.

“And why for the love of everything that is pure and holy, am I not already buried under a mountain of blankets in my nice warm bed? Preferably with an even warmer body sucking me off?” he asks himself, cradling his pounding head in both hands. “Well,” he answers. “Because thanks to my pushy-whiny baby brother, I’m here, waiting inside some dick doctor’s office, freezing my nuts off, buck naked, wearing a ridiculous puke green robe with the back wide open and probably leaving sweaty ass-prints all over this goddamn white roll-out paper!”

He taps his foot nervously on the grooved step of the examination table and checks his watch, frowning when he sees how long he’s been waiting. “Prick.” He spits and exhaling a long-suffering sigh, switches to the other foot.

“Fuck’s taking him so goddamn long?” he complains. “Fucking Sam and his mother-henning.” He grumbles, deeply regretting his earlier promise to keep the appointment made for him by said mother-hen.

“Fuck my life.” He gripes, cursing under his breath, teeth chattering, swearing he can just about see faint wisps of breath with every exhale in the frigid room. He shifts closer to the edge of the exam table, white paper crinkling loudly in the otherwise morgue like space, and sighs again, fingers rubbing absently against his aching temples.

He can’t believe he let Sam talk him into coming. It’s not like what ails him is life threatening, for chrissakes. Just a fucking headache. With maybe some blurred vision. And maybe a sharp stabbing pain that’s more akin to someone drilling into his brain. But still not life threatening. Debilitating and agonizing, yes. But life and death? N’ah.

“Fuck…” He shifts again, ass wiggling and cheeks spreading, quickly tucking the god-awful gown tightly under his bare ass, wondering for the umpteenth time why he had to remove his underwear. “It’s my head that hurts, not my balls.” He grouses, throwing an accusatory glare at the poor skeleton, about to let loose with another scathing tirade when there’s a soft rap on the door.

“Come-” he starts, but the door swings open before he finishes, “Huh, hi.” He stammers, struck stupid when he gets a good look at the gorgeous six-foot tall dark haired man that walks in clad in a white doctor’s lab-coat.

“Hello…Mr. Winchester.” The doctor says, after a quick glance to his chart confirms that yes, the gaping fool squirming uncomfortably on the edge of the examination table, wearing a poorly fitting atrocious green gown is indeed, Dean Winchester.

“Ah, you’re not Dr. Crowley.” _Smooth Dean, way to state the obvious_.

“Hmph, no, I’m not.” the blue-eyed hunk replies, laughing softly at the absurdity of Dean’s comment, as if his patient’s lame-ass observation warrants a full on throaty chuckle from a beautiful god-like creature, such as himself. “I’m Castiel Novak, APRN, and I’ll be standing in for Dr. Crowley today. He’s been called away on an emergency and won’t be able to see you.”

“Ah, m’kay.” Dean says, jaw snapping shut, _‘Cause yeah, he’s ogling._ But in his defense, Castiel Novak, his APRN, _whateverthefuckthatmeans,_ is painfully beautiful and truly ogle worthy. Therefore, excruciating head pain or no, Dean ogles.

“Whu-what exactly is an APRN?” he manages to ask, clearing his throat with a loud cough to mask the break in his voice and offers up his most charming smile.

Castiel narrows his eyes, tilts his head slightly to the side and smiles in return, a small barely there curl to one side of his plush lips, regarding Dean with a gaze so intense, his patient can’t help but fidget under his scrutiny.

After a too long pause, he finally answers. “It stands for ‘Advanced Practice Registered Nurse’, Mr. Winchester.”

“Cool. Please, call me Dean.” _Real fucking suave, Dean._ “So, um, so you’re like a…um, really hot _Head_ _Nurse,_ huh?” He foolishly states, grin growing wider, shark like, over his own cleverness, cock hardening under his gown as a myriad of nurse-themed porn flicks (he may or may not have seen a time or two dozen) flash across his mind.

_Oh, I am so tapping that sweet-ass! Bow-chick-a-bow-wow._

“Yeah, that’s real, real, great.” he adds, throwing in a non-to-subtle-wink for good measure, throat clicking around a dry swallow, legs spreading to show off the goods.

Castiel’s bemused stare turns irritated glower, complete with squinty eyes and matching tight lips. “Don’t call me nurse, Dean.” He snarls, totally disregarding Dean’s flagrant come-ons. “While I hold nurses in the highest esteem, having recently been one myself, I have a medical license and am now closer to a doctor than to a nurse. So please, show the proper respect my station warrants and address me as NP Novak. And never, _ever_ , nurse.”

“Whoa, dude, I didn’t mean to offend.” Dean scoffs holding his hands up and now just as irritated with _Nurse_ Novak and his snarky attitude, as the stunning man is with him. _‘Cause seriously, if you’re not a_ _doctor, then guess what, you’re a fucking nurse._ “Phfft, more like a doctor, you say? Well, you sure as shit kept me waiting like one.” He snorts.

Big fucking mistake.

“I apologize for any inconvenience, Mr. Winchester, but with Dr. Crowley absent, I’ve not only had to handle my own cases, but his as well. And, since yours was a last minute appointment, I only agreed to see you as a courtesy and had my secretary pencil you in as my last patient of the day.” Castiel explains in a huff.

“So, what brings you here today, Mr. Winchester?” he continues icily, clinical, once again disregarding whatever bullshit happens to be coming out of Dean’s mouth. Unfortunately, the low timbre and gravel rough tone of his voice does nothing to _‘soften’_ Dean’s traitorous dick, or cool the heat building in his core.

_Fuckable asshole._

But Dean’s got pride, for the most part anyway, and if NP Novak chooses to rebuff him and act like an offended ice-princess, then he can fuck-off. Dean can do better. Way, way better. Okay, maybe not, but still, that’s what beer-goggles are for, right?

As soon as he gets out he’s gonna head to the nearest bar where he’ll pick up a sweet fine thing and ask he or she if they wannna play doctor. And if he manages to convince them to don a white lab-coat in the process, well then, that’s his business and has nothing whatsoever to do with _Dr. Sexy-as-Hell Novak._

Dean lifts his chin defiantly and scoots further back, crosses his legs, and places his hands over his lap in a vain attempt to cover his burgeoning erection, _'cause there’s no way he wants this arrogant prick to know how deeply he’s been affected._

_Bow-chick-a-bow-wow. Fuck!_

“Mr. Winchester, you’re here because…” Castiel asks again, voice tight with impatience.

“Hea-” Dean coughs. “Headache.” He manages weakly, flustered, hoping the dreadful florescent lighting sufficiently disguises the deep blush he knows is burning brightly on his cheeks. “But, actually, not really bothering me right now.” he suddenly realizes with more than a little awe. He was so caught up in his body’s reaction to _Mr. Gorgeous-as-fuck-Novak_ , that his head didn’t have time to hurt. “So, I guess nothing’s bothering me at the moment.” _Except for the raging hard-on I have because_ _of you, you dick._ he almost, _almost_ , lets slip.

Castiel regards Dean for a long minute, and then shakes his head. He lowers his eyes, and smirks, actually fucking smirks when he says, “Well, I suppose since you’re already here, and _undressed_ ,” he points out with an evil gleam. “I might as well take a look and see if I can’t find anything to add to my chart other than _Patient shows a blatant lack of respect for his NP_.”

“Huh?” Dean argues, because he’s fast like that with the witty come-backs.

Castiel’s smile widens. He turns around and walks towards one of the white cabinets lining the far wall. He opens it and pulls out a few supplies that Dean can’t quite make out from his vantage point. When he turns back, smug smile still on his handsome face, he’s slapping on a latex glove with one hand and opening a bottle of lube with the other.

“Move closer to the table’s edge, Mr. Winchester.” He orders, taking a seat on a low stool he wheeled between Dean’s legs.

_Fuck!_

And if Dean wasn’t already painfully hard, then the mischievous glint in _Nurse_ Novak’s bright blue eyes sure as shit would have done the trick.

“Ah, no, that’s okay. I’m good, really, all better now.” Dean bravely protests suddenly shy, nervous and even a little bit scared, not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

And who can blame him? Castiel’s unwavering gaze and his confident swagger are intimidating as fuck. But also, a fuck-ton of sexiness that has in its absolute hotness, miraculously cured Dean of the throbbing pain in his head. However, unfortunately, or fortunately, the ache in his noggin has been replaced with a hungry throbbing between his legs.

 _I’m so screwed._ He laments.

“I said…move closer. Legs spread apart, feet resting on the stirrups, and back flat against the table, Mr. Winchester.” Castiel growls, expression dark and serious, dangerous.

_Fuck, that’s hot!_

“Um, you do realize that it’s, ah, my…um, head that-that I’m here about, right?” Dean rasps, throat too fucking dry, internally shouting at himself to shut the fuck up. He honestly can’t believe he’s still babbling. _Is there absolutely no blood flowing to my friggin brain, anymore?_ he wonders absently.

Castiel looks up, brow arched high, challengingly, silently asking Dean for permission or refusal. _Or is_ _he just calling Dean on his bullshit-bashfulness, magnanimously offering him an out, a chance to get_ _up and leave._

Yeah, fat chance of that happening. Like Dean wasn’t hopelessly lost the second he laid eyes on Castiel. Like Castiel didn’t decide, right then and there, the moment he set eyes on Dean, that he would give everything, absolutely everything he’s worked so hard for just to have this brash stunning man writhing beneath him.

At least once.

“Dean?” Dean actually startles, the softness of Castiel’s voice, the way he whispers his name, _his first_ _name_ , the look of (is that nervousness) in his eyes, is such a stark contrast to the brusque, almost businesslike manner that he’s been employing up until now, does all sorts of things to Dean’s defenses. Gone is the menace from Castiel’s tone, replaced with obvious want and need; it’s seductive and enticing, and marks the end for Dean.

Besides, knowing that Sam will bitch _endlessly_ if he doesn’t at least get a quick check-up now that he’s already here, Dean complies. For his brother of course. Not because his legs automatically fell wide open, the second Castiel perched himself smack dab in between his groin. And certainly not because he focused those gorgeous blue eyes on Dean’s mouth. And definitely not because he poked his wet pink tongue out to moisten that delicious plump bottom lip.

_No sir, definitely doing it for Sammy._

So, throwing all pretexts that he might have any self-control, let alone self-respect, out the window, Dean gives Castiel a small tight nod along with an even smaller smile, and wiggles his ass closer. “Yes…” he says quietly, barely audible, and leans back.

“Move your hands, Mr. Winchester.” Castiel requests softly, although firmly, breathing the words across Dean’s knees, reaching out for his patient’s hands and placing them on either side of his spread thighs when they refuse to budge from their place atop his lap.

“Fuck me-“ Castiel gasps, causing Dean’s head to snap up when he hears the nurse sucking in a sharp breath.

Dean almost laughs, would be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the ravenous look in _Nurse_ Novak’s lust blown eyes or the way he’s so obviously fighting back a moan by biting down painfully on his bottom lip; the nurse’s reaction, if anything, turning Dean on, even more.

“So, ah…” Dean begins then pauses, eyes bugging-out because _holy shit_ the front of his gown is so obscenely tented, it’s comical. He honestly can’t remember ever being this hard for anyone, and has to swallow the lump currently wedged in his dry throat before he can continue. “Guess I got a little excited.” He states casually gesturing with a sweep of his hand over the high peak of his gown.

“Mr. Winchester-“

“D-Dean.” Dean corrects, stuttering the single syllable over a shaky breath, quickly unraveling just from his nurse’s unblinking stare.

“Hmph, yes, Dean.” Castiel replies and chuckles, low and filthy, quickly recovering some of his earlier cockiness and confidence. He reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb gently over the large damp spot on the very top of Dean’s obvious erection. “Now, I want you to relax.” He purrs and lifts the gown off and away, letting the fabric puddle over the quivering muscles of Dean’s stomach.

This time Dean does laugh, albeit soft and low, because the sight of Castiel stammering, at a loss for words, slack-jawed, eyes impossibly wide, saucer-like, as he marvels at Dean’s impressive member, is both adorable and a real fucking ego boost. But the humor is short lived; Castiel’s blatant unethical debauchery has him so fucking close to spurting his load all over the arrogant bastard’s handsome face, that he’s afraid he’ll be the one fish-mouthing and speechless if they don’t get a move on, stat.

So finally, after an eternity of staring at each other, Castiel reaches forward and wraps his ungloved fingers around Dean’s dick, flicking tantalizingly at the tip with his thumb, expertly rubbing and smearing the pearly liquid flowing from the crown and using it to stroke and pull his patient’s hard length with long smooth twists of his wrist.

“Mmpht!” Dean chokes out, toes curling, almost gagging from the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

“Relax, Dean.”

“Fuck!” Dean moans when a lubed latex-covered finger prods at his entrance.

“Shh…” Castiel shushes, gently running his fingertip along the crevice, delicately circling the tightly puckered muscle, brushing his thumb against the rim, tentatively pressing against the springy flesh, before finally, _finally_ , breaching Dean’s hole.

“Gah!” Dean gulps, head slamming back against the paper-coated surface, ass squirming from the penetration, hips bucking with the addition of a second digit.

“How does that feel?” Castiel asks and smirks, not really expecting an answer. He continues to work Dean open, scissoring with two fingers for a beat before adding a third, cork-screwing all three, in and out in slow languid spirals. “Feel good?” the cruel bastard taunts. “Hm?” he questions with a cock of his brow and when all he gets for a reply are a series of unintelligible whines and whimpers, leans forward to wrap pink full lips around Dean’s dick.

“Jee-zus!” Dean cries out, drowning in the hot wet tunnel of Castiel’s mouth, eyes scrunched tight when the wicked nurse curls his wicked tongue around Dean’s cock, hips rocking forward when the tip hits the back of Castiel’s throat.

“Mmmm…” Castiel hums, a gorgeous sound, the vibrations racing up Dean’s spine, releasing his patient’s dick to palm briefly at his own erection. He sucks and slurps, head bobbing, ungloved hand fisting and stripping Dean’s length, returning his gloved hand to Dean’s opening, slipping four fingers in and fucking him with smooth steady pumps.

“Fuck…fucking god…want your cock in me. N-now!” Dean stutters.

Castiel groans at the command, throat rumbling around Dean’s dick. He removes his gloved fingers from Dean’s hole and quickly peels off the offensive latex, dropping it, unceremoniously, onto the cold tile floor.

With some deft maneuvering, he lubes his free hand and resumes finger fucking Dean’s opening, further loosening him up, not once pulling his mouth off Dean’s dick, or releasing his firm grip from his patient’s slicked cock.

But Castiel’s only human and just as desperate to bury his cock in Dean’s tight ass as Dean is to have an ass-full of Castiel’s dick. So after a few more slurps and a few more pumps, and still bent over with his lips firmly sealed around the plumb head, he stands slowly away from his seat and pushes back the small black stool with his foot, gingerly removing his fingers, once again, from Dean’s wet hole.

Still suckling hungrily on the sensitive head of Dean’s dick, he releases his grip from his patient’s cock, lips latched securely around the tip, and now with both of hands free, unbuttons his lab-coat, unties the drawstring from his scrubs, and lowers them just enough to pull out his own rigid length.

Castiel straightens, Dean’s dick slipping from his reddened lips with an audible pop, his own cock heavy and leaking in his hand, eyes focused on Dean’s heaving body. “Dean…” is all he says, deep and gruff, completely wreaked, and steps closer to reposition himself between Dean’s splayed legs.

He gives his dick a few lazy swipes with his still slicked palm, lines himself up with Dean’s hole and pressing the blunt end against the wet pink rim, slides in easily, deliciously, in one smooth thrust.

“Oh my f-fuck-king, god!” Dean sobs, biting back a groan, body shuddering, arousal so off the charts his balls begin to tighten. “Cas…Cas-so…fucking good, so…“ he chokes out.

“I can’t hear you, Mr. Winchester.” Castiel pants, words punctuated with each consecutive slam against Dean’s ass. “What did I tell you earlier?” he demands, hips bumping and grinding, fingers denting bruises into the meaty flesh of Dean’s hips.

Dean’s fucking done, he’s gonna blow, but he holds himself back, trying with what little blood he has left in his brain to figure out what the fuck his _nurse_ is talking about.

_No, not a nurse!_

“NP…N-Novak!” he wails. “Fuck…you fuck me so fucking good, NP!” he shouts, back bowing off the table, dick jerking against his belly, and cums.

Castiel isn’t far behind, only a few more thrusts, mesmerized by how easily Dean’s hole swallows his dick. But when Dean begins writhing and squirming in the exquisite throes of his own orgasm, and his hole spasms and flexes around Castiel's cock, it's all over for the _nurse_. “Argh…Dean!” he grunts, his smooth rhythm stuttering, and spills, cock pulsing in Dean’s ass, filling him with an overload of his spunk.

Castiel rides out his climax buried to the hilt in Dean’s ass. And even after the aftershocks of the best orgasm he’s ever had in his life have subsided, he still doesn’t pull out. Choosing instead to slump forward and rest on top of his patient until his heartbeat calms and his breathing steadies, not caring one iota that his _no-longer-pristine-lab-coat_ is soaking up the cooled sticky mess allover Dean’s belly. He’s happy and sated, blissful, with only the sounds of their ragged breaths breaking the otherwise quiet of the room.

“Man, talk about _fucking the pain away_ , eh, Cas?” Dean mumbles, voice hushed, still flat on his back, carding his fingers through the tangled wreak of Castiel’s hair. “Think I can get a prescription for what we just did?” he wisecracks, trying for casual, hoping he doesn’t come off as desperate. He props himself up on his elbows and playfully nudges Castiel on the hip with the heel of his foot.

“Yes, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel pulls up, his still half-hard cock slipping out, and stands. “As your APRN, I highly recommend a daily dose of my cock.” He grins, voice hoarse, thoroughly pleased with himself.

He takes hold of Dean’s ass-cheeks and spreads them, watching with heavy lidded eyes as his cum oozes out of Dean’s opening.

“Yeah… um,” Dean fumbles, blushing because, yay, Castiel wants to see him again, and because of how fucking fantastic it feels to have his nurse’s warm cum sliding down his butt-cheeks. “Sounds good. So ah…”

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel asks, straight faced, smooth as whisky, and just how the fuck he manages to act so nonchalant while smearing his own cum with the head of his dick along his patient’s crack, is beyond badass, as far as Dean’s concerned.

Dean groans from the sensation and his head falls back while his _ambitious-as-hell-dick_ jerks weakly for attention.

Castiel’s cool-as-fuck exterior cracks, and he beams, _yeah, definitely very pleased with himself._

“You were saying, Dean?” he prods, both figuratively and literally, reaching out to skate his fingertips over the long expanse of Dean’s throat, trailing feather light caresses down towards his clavicle, over his sternum, tweaking an already erect nipple.

“Just…fuck,” Dean huffs and raises his head, setting his green eyes on Castiel’s. “Just really fucking happy doc Crowley couldn’t see me today, NP Novak.” He confesses; gaze steady, full of hope and promise. “Because, seriously dude, your cock is a miracle cure-all for all of my friggin aches and pains. Well, maybe not my ass so much, but still, I think I might need more than a once daily-“

“Shut up, Dean.” Castiel sighs with mock-exasperation, silencing Dean’s ramblings.

He bends at the waist and Dean props himself up on his elbows, and they meet in the middle for a hot press of lips.

When they finally break for air, Castiel eagerly agrees to increase Dean’s dosage.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT condone Cas' behavior! But, this is porn, and Dean does want him too, so...  
> Condoms are ALWAYS a good idea between strangers!  
> Nurses rock! APRNs rock too!


End file.
